Scooby in the Ghost House
by PuckingGoodfellow
Summary: The gang has just solved a mystery and finally has some down time. But, is there some romance budding between a certain brainiac and scaredy-cat? Gang, it's time to get to the bottom of this!


"Did you seriously hack his phone?" asked Daphne, dropping onto the couch beside Velma.

Glasses reflecting off the screen, Velma perused Google from Shaggy's scratched up phone. "No. He gave me the code."

"Oh," she said. "Well that's very trusting." She sat there staring up at the motionless ceiling fan. "I never gave you my password."

"I already figured it out."

"What?"

"Look at this!" Velma said, showing her the image of an old, creepy looking house plastered to the dinged screen of the phone. Enshrouded by willows and Birchwood, the dim structure could hardly keep up its steeple-like rooftop the way its rotting walls leaned and bent. White cracks gleamed in the windows against the gray aged wood, and the front porch slumped downward like a ramp into the deep.

The early 20th Century styled home seemed like nothing more than a future destruction site at a short glance. But as Daphne's eyes zeroed in, a haunting presence seemed to linger behind the shattered glass.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"We're sitting in it."

Daphne did a double take around the room, its sleek, modern attire and sturdy walls. "I don't remember the house being in such disrepair."

"It was remodeled last year. But I wonder: just because the design has changed, doesn't mean its history has."

"What do you mean?"

"There are countless stories of trespassers finding cold spots. Photographing orbs. Seeing the flicker of movement from the windows…"

"You think it's still haunted."

"A fresh coat of paint doesn't just wipe away years of haunting."

"It was definitely a bit more work than fresh paint. And, you don't even believe in ghosts."

"No, but I've always found paranormal research fascinating. Now we can conduct our own experiments and… why are you looking at me like that?"

Daphne shook her head. "You're trying to find a mystery where there isn't one. Velma, I love a juicy mystery as much as the next guy. But we just solved one involving a tiger-man and a Selkie accomplice. I'm still trying to wash that glowing sludge stink from their costumes out of my hair. Can't we just rest for one night? One? That's all I'm asking."

Velma set down the phone. "You're not at all concerned Fred's aunt's summer house might be a little spookier than we were told?"

She shook her head and picked up the nearest magazine. "Not today." She flipped it open to the month's latest fashion craze. "Well that's just not true," she commented, staring at a patchwork poncho.

Velma peered beneath to catch the title. " _Little Starshine Weekly_? You're reading a cat lady's magazine."

Daphne tossed the magazine behind her. It flapped haphazardly through the air with a sharp fluttering sound. "We can still find something else to do besides solve some nonexistent mystery."

Velma scanned the room doubtfully. "Like what?"

Suddenly, Shaggy's phone buzzed. The image of a girl lit up the screen with a text saying "hope ur stayin warm 2nite!" punctuated further with a winky face.

Velma's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the blond in the picture, blond with pink stripes in her hair and piercings riding up her ear.

"Who is Lana?" Velma asked, reading the name of the contact.

Daphne shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "Never heard of her."

"You haven't?"

"Nope."

"Not once?"

"Not… wait… no. I have her confused with Barbara."

"Who's Barbara?"

"Some girl from high school."

"How do you confuse Lana with Barbara?"

"I don't know," she replied nonchalantly. "Hey, we should watch TV!"

"What? Why?"

"Because we never get to just do nothing and watch TV."

"TV is boring."

"As far as you know. We could be missing out on an entire world of cinematic brilliance and be none the wiser."

"There's enough terror and excitement in the _real_ world to satiate that thirst for drama."

"Yes, but TV terror is much safer than the real world. And less exhausting."

Velma pondered this unconvinced. "We still don't know who this Lana is."

"Who cares? Shaggy probably has lots of strange people's numbers that we don't know about."

"Lots of other people's numbers?" asked Velma.

"Yeah. I have at least ten thousand contacts. Doesn't everyone?"

"I have maybe twenty."

"Twenty thousand?" she asked, raising her eyebrows delightedly.

"No. Just twenty," she said fixing her glasses and gave Daphne another look. "Do you really know over ten thousand people?"

She shrugged. "No. But at least ten thousand people know _me_."

Velma got to her feet, "Astonishing." She smoothed down her corduroy skirt and felt the heat of the fireplace braze her bare ankles. The carpet squished beneath her toes in its cushioning fibers, supporting her sore heels. Everything was sore from last night's chase scenes. And last night, there was slippery sludge involved leaving bruises everywhere from every wild fall. Outside, snow fluttered over a world of white and reigning silence. Its blaring glow squandered any need for indoor lights.

An hour passed that she and Daphne had lounged around the summerhouse on this wintery morning. Just that night they'd unmasked some creeps a few hours south of here and were offered refuge by Fred's distant aunt. It was all very fortunate for them not having to take shelter in some shady motel or spend the night at a police station. Still, Velma paced from window to window humming little jingles and fixing her smudged glasses.

"We should bake some cookies!" Daphne suggested instantaneously, now hanging upside down from the couch. "I hope there are chocolate chips in the kitchen."

"Nothing I'd rather do than punctuate my stereotypical domesticity with chocolate chips."

Daphne waved her off. "Yeah but I want cookies. How 'bout you?"

"I'll pass."

Rolling off the couch garbed contently in a guy's hoodie and purple bunny slippers, Daphne sidled up to Velma. Plopping her chin on her shoulder, she too stared out into the world of spinning snowflakes.

"You're right," Daphne assessed. "This is much more fun than baking delightful warm goodies."

Velma rolled her eyes. "When do you suppose the guys will get back?"

"Who knows? Who cares? For now, the house is ours!" She grabbed Velma's wrist and yanked her along into the kitchen. "Come on! Turn up the radio! Hey, wanna play hockey with the frozen cookies before we bake them?"

"Hockey?" Velma asked. Then a smug grin spread across her face. "Aha! I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"You don't really like hanging around doing nothing, kicking frozen dough across the floor, decorating treats with sugar and spices like some chipper homemaker. Admit it: you're miserable without a juicy mystery to solve. Just as miserable as I am."

Daphne's head rolled back and she loosed a groan. "No, I'm not! You are projecting your own misery on me! We've just completed a long stream of monster-infested mysteries. I'm tired of setting traps and getting my fingers tangled up in trip wire. It's time to fill the house with warm, sugary smells." Spinning around the smooth wood floor, Daphne as resolutely as ever, slid to the freezer. She pulled out a tube of dough and tossed it to Velma. "Catch!"

"What?" she shrieked before it inevitably smacked onto the ground. "Daph! Why are you throwing things at me?"

She pulled out a pan and preset the oven. "I said 'catch' didn't I?"

Shoving up her glasses, Velma kicked the icy tube across the floor. "You know my reflexes are too slow to respond to a sudden verbal warning and then the assault of an airborne object."

"You know what you sound like?" she shaped her hand like a beak, "I'm Velma. I'm so miserable. Who is Lana? I hacked all your phones. I can't catch things. Fun is stupid. Bla bla bleh bla…" she kicked the frozen tube back at her. It spun around like a propeller and almost smacked Velma's bare toes.

"Hey!" she shouted, jumping back. "I am not coordinated enough for this!"

But Daphne was too busy giggling at her own joke. She slumped over, bright red hair falling over her face, grabbing her gut from laughing so hard.

"Daph?" Annoyed, Velma kicked it right back.

And their hockey tournament commenced.

"So, Shaggy. Who's Lana?" Daphne asked hours later after Scooby and the guys finally returned from snack shopping.  
"Who?" Shaggy asked as he dropped onto the couch.

Velma shot her a dirty look.

"You know, _Lana_. She's been texting you."

Shaggy and Scooby exchanged quizzical glances for a second. Then a punch of recognition slammed both their faces. "Oh. _Lana_. She's uh… she's nobody."

"Nobody?" Daphne asked, pulling his phone out from the cushions in the couch. "For a nobody, she sure is worried about you being cold and alone tonight."

He snatched his phone back and studied the screen. His cheeks blushed a little. "Like, yeah, she's just some chick I ran into one time."

"Oh? Like you ran into her or you _ran into her_?"

Shaggy's lips pressed together for a second. "Like I don't know get what you're trying to ask me."

"Come on, Shaggy. You get what I mean," she persisted and added a wink.

"Uh, like, I really don't."

"I mean, was it like this really quick run in or was it a little bit more than just a run in?"

"Oh, I see," said Fred with a smug little smile.

"Calm yourself, Frederick. You don't know what she means either," said Velma.

Fred shrugged. "You're right, I don't."

"Like, it all happened so fast I guess."

"Yeah?"

"Why do I feel like I'm on trial?"

"Ignore her, Shaggy," said Velma. "She's been bored without some terrifying creature to stalk."

"Hence the mysterious cookie dough creature that wrecked the kitchen?" asked Fred.

"He did not wreck it. Any handy man can reassemble some disassembled things easily," Daphne said with a calm shrug.

"You broke a hole through the wall," said Shaggy.

"No, the cookie dough monster did. And he was properly punished. Wasn't he, Velma?"

"Eating someone is a vulgar form of punishment. But my share of cookie was satisfactory, I'll admit."

Daphne grinned with approval.

Velma sat on the countertop licking off a spoon of ice cream. "So. Norville. Who is Lana?"

Shaggy chuckled abashedly while he stacked pizza slices atop burger patties and wedged them between two buns, careful to layer on a hardy helping of barbecue sauce. "Like how seriously bored were you guys today?"

"I'd say severely. Daphne would try to argue that down to moderate. In which case she would be lying. So, out with it."

He chewed his first bite thoughtfully. "It was at this Rex Rhino concert Scoob and me saw. After the show Lana got separated from her crew, so she chilled with us for a bit. Never met her before. We all got tacos at this taco stand. That was cool. Afterwards we may or may not have made out for an hour in some vintage phone booth. But that's like totally irrelevant. Turns out she had this real jealous-type boyfriend so me and Scooby really high-tailed it out of there fast! But between the phone booth and the tacos, she got my number, said it was in case she ever got lost again. She was pretty cool. Haven't heard from her since, honestly. Until of course today, obviously.

"I know. It sounds like a totally boring, bogus story."

She smirked, setting the spoon back into the tub of ice cream. "So that's the secret wild life of Shaggy Rogers. Goes off to wild concerts, kisses a few girls, collects a few digits, then arrives home in time to build a colossal sandwich out of leftover pizza. Case closed."

He grinned, swallowing the last of his mega-sandwich. "I think you forgot staying up watching old horror movies."

"Just when I thought loose ends were wrapping up so nicely."

He set his plate into the sink then leaned against the counter beside her. "Hope that's enough to fill your lame novel. Come on. What does Velma Dinkley do all day? Rope down some wild ponies, command fleets of ships, write an advice column for NASA?"

"I read."

"Whoa. Stop right there. I can smell a fib from a mile away."

She rolled her eyes smiling. "That's all. It's like a sickness. I just have to know."

"Know what?"

She shrugged, "Everything."

He rubbed his chin beard. "Well like, it's always good to set achievable goals."

She laughed. "Ok, not _everything_ , obviously. Just whatever I can get my hands on."

"Important distinction," he said and she shoved him.

"So what if it's not as attainable as some girl's number," Velma said.

"But getting numbers isn't the kind of stuff they teach in books. I should know. I never read them."

"Oh brother," she said, shoving her hair back. "I'm afraid to ask but…"

"But you gotta know everything?"

She refrained from rolling her eyes at him while he faced her, ready for whatever question she could throw. "How do you do it, you know… just end up in these bizarre places on your own?"

"As opposed to like, all the cool abandoned factories and graveyards we frequent?"

She met his light brown eyes in the kitchen lamp's glow, and the endless trails of jokes smirking behind them. "Ok, Dr. Sarcasm. Honestly, though. You're at some awesome concert and end up with tacos and some stranger that you just maybe sort of unofficially lock lips with. How does, I mean… that stuff doesn't even cross my mind forget happen to me."

He studied her speculatively. "Are you trying to ask the old Shagster how to make out with a perfect stranger?"

Her cheeks enflamed. "When you put it _that way_ suddenly my thirst for knowledge completely dissolves."

"Yeah?" he asked, crossing his arms challengingly. "Well too bad for you, I'm gonna tell you anyway."

Her head dropped, "No, no, seriously, it's ok I don't…"

"First," he began, all proper and teacher-like. "You gotta be in a place that's not real crowded."

She sighed in defeat. "Like a vintage telephone booth?"

"Or a corner. A room. A broom closet… you know, it doesn't really matter."

"I feel the knowledge wrinkling my brain already."

"And then, you talk."

"Talk?"

"Yeah, like, about whatever. Preferably nothing. But not like the weather. More like bands, and creepy facts nobody really wants to know. Stuff to just make the other person feel calm, you know?"

She shrugged, "I guess."

"Right. And then if you get this good but maybe tense vibe you can't pin, things get quiet. And you like let it."

Wind whistled outside the otherwise soundless house. The muting quality of snow seemed to settle into the room at this moment, making it feel compact. Closed in.

Listening further, she noticed his arms drop at his sides.

"Be cool," he said, coolly.

"My super power."

"And then," he went on and lowered his voice like it was a secret. "You kinda look away, then you look 'em in the eyes, look away again, look 'em in the eyes again and if that good but tense vibe lingers you start to wonder, 'what if I lean in a little closer?'" he said, letting the question hang in the air.

She couldn't tell how serious he was since the entire crash course seemed like a rip off from some cheesy YouTube channel.

But this oddly curious look in his eyes grabbed her attention. His lanky build stood closer than before, his hand resting on the counter by her knee. A waft of fabric softener she suddenly noticed flittered around her, running off his green shirt.

"Or like, how bout a little more closer?" he went on, daring to narrow the gap between them.

A streak of energy raced through her chest. His questions sunk into her head while her eyes quietly settled on his stubble and the stilled lips just above.

"Just a few inches closer?" he asked again.

His stomach touched her knees.

"How about a little…'"

The heat of his breath brazed her mouth when her eyes suddenly shot open. She hadn't known they'd closed.

Or that she leaned in so near to him.

"Oh boy," she sounded, but softly.

He stepped back then, his head tilted to the side, not saying anything.

She slid off the counter and pushed some hair behind her ear. "So, uh, that's how it's done."

"Yeah, um," he cleared his throat, "that's what happened to me anyway."

"Well, I'm going to go to bed now."

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Like, cool man."

She forced a weak grin. "Right. Sleep well," she said as she left.

"G'night."

9


End file.
